Burning Black Interludes
by Digi-Dolphin
Summary: Sometimes, certain songs in my playlist inspire the background stories of the characters. I've written them down as Interludes. From random times, to situations that may or may never occur, it'll all be here. Best experienced with the song playing too.
1. Cosmo

_**Burning Black Interlude  
**_

Cosmo

Part of Me - Figure .09 by Linkin Park

* * *

He glared at the mirror in the bathroom again. He did it every time he saw it. A hateful glare matched his own, his reflection. His image. For now, for the moment.

He loathed it, and would have said as much had he known what the word meant, even that the word existed. But he couldn't; he was stupid and he knew it. Everyone knew it. And that included the part of him that he hated.

He hated it because of what it could do with him, to him, for him, in him. He hated it because of what it could do to the ones around him, the ones who loved him, the ones who trusted him, believed in him, fought for him, fought over him. He hated it because it was always there, pressing in on him, the guilt, the bitterness, the resentment, the hatred. He hated it because it hated back. Stupid, but then stupidity was all he knew.

He wanted it gone. Any how, any way, just gone, out of his body, out of his mind, out of his life, out of existence. He'd take a knife and gouge it out if he could but he'd tried that already and wound up regretting it when the others panicked. But he didn't regret taking that stand. He wanted his life and he was willing to do anything to regain it, as long as it didn't hurt anyone else.

He'd already hurt so many, just by being alive, just by being who he was, what he was. Everything that was happening, all the misery, the darkness, the fighting, the bloodshed. All of it. His fault. Because of who he was. Because of who he is.

He sighed and bowed his head shamefully. All of it. If he had just allowed himself to die, everything would have been perfect. His family would be in peace, hidden away safely from the grips of those who desired him. The city would have its Heart and Soul. The others would have their leader. Fairy World would remain in its stalemate, a solitary power with only a ghost of a weapon.

It was all stupid and painful and unbearable and he would have liked nothing more than to just end it all. And he tried, oh, he tried. Again and again, the blade would come close, touch his skin, draw a line of blood... and then stop.

Because it refused to let him do it. He was under protection, by someone who had been ordered to protect him at all costs. To keep him alive. To keep him healthy. To ensure his legacy. Orders that he himself had given without realizing it.

And so there were a dozen scars collected, hundreds, but never seen. Each one was magically dealt with. No evidence. He was perfect; they were perfect.

He glared at the mirror again. How he hated it. He would rather be dead than continue facing his protector, his guardian, his Keeper. Dancer, Keeper; Sleeper, Reaper. One day, the reflection may stop being his. He wouldn't want that for anyone. If the protector won, then the people who hurt him would take penalty. And the people who hurt him were not evil.

So did the wanting to hurt not-evil people make **him** evil?

Confusion.

He held his head, brain pounding painfully under the Dancer's influence, the tones of elevator music scattering his thoughts. But he kept his gaze on the mirror, glaring, staring, daring.

And then he appeared at last, looking into the mirror as well. Into. Out of. Confusion.

He wanted his protector gone; his protector wanted only the best for him. Darkness for the light, to guide and contain. They functioned together to keep things in check. He needed his Keeper, but he hated him all the same.

Because he was losing. He knew it. Since the Day of Sorrows, he'd begun losing the battle. A fight he had not known he was fighting until he began losing. And then it was too late. He was free, just a bit, but enough to make life hell. Because he was growing in strength, every day.

So he tried harder. The blade dug deeper and with it the morbidly happy thought that at least it was his own hand, his own will, that guided the silver metal. But then **he** would come and grab his hand and pull it away, lecturing, scolding, berating, ordering. The wound would heal and he would leave and the misery would continue another day.

"Hate you." he finally whispered to the reflection in the mirror.

_"I know."_ the other one said.

"Die."

_"Negative. That would mean failure of the objectives. I do not tolerate failure."_

"Let **me** die!"

_"Negative. That would mean failure of the...."_

He spun and slammed the sole of his shoe into the mirror, shattering it in a fury as his Keeper halted his words and left him to his thoughts. Thoughts that were never private; damn that Dancer, damn that Keeper, damn the ones who did this to him!

He looked down at the shards, myriad reflections, twisted, broken, staring back up at him. No anti. They sensed the mood, wanted no part of the darkness surrounding him, it was too deep, too much, for them to bear. He stood there, watching the shards a moment more. Then, closing his eyes, he tilted his head back, opened his mouth and uttered a shriek of pain, anguish, revulsion and anger. Why?! Why couldn't it all just end and be done with him already?! Why extend the torture like this?! All he ever wanted was what everyone else had! A family! People who cared for him despite what he was!

But then... they didn't know what he was. Because he had made sure not to let them discover it. But, they were learning, because he was showing them. And when they understood him, understood what he was, the love would turn and he would be alone, and only his Keeper would remain at his side, eternally. It would never leave him. The Keeper existed for him alone; he existed only for the Keeper to watch over.

And he hated himself as much as he hated his protector.

A knock came at the door, quick and annoyed.

"Cosmo! Aren't you done?! C'mon, we have to go and wake up Timmy for school!" Wanda yelled through the door. Everything had been magically tampered with when he entered; he had made sure to keep sound only within the walls of the room, so no one could hear what was going on. He gazed blankly down at the shards as his Keeper returned and lifted his hand, waving his wand for him to restore the bathroom mirror.

_"You have your duty. I have mine. Let us complete our objectives."_ the other murmured before disappearing again. He frowned, glaring at the perfect mirror again.

"I'll do my job. And I will find a way to kill you before you do yours." he hissed in return, "I swear this on all those who depend on me. The one true me. The me that can love them and not be afraid of you. I will kill you or I will kill me so you can't use me." There was no answer so maybe the point got across. He could only hope.

He sighed, turned and waved the wand to fix the walls again, then opened the door and smiled brightly, stupidly, at his wife.

"Can we use the super-mega-ultra-loud music thingy again, Wanda?! Pretty please?!" Cosmo chirped happily and bounced away after Wanda as she flew off with a laugh and a nod.

In the room, his reflection stood in the mirror, looking out at the world, at the scene that played before it.

_"Target acquired."_ it whispered and green eyes glowed menacingly at the pink-haired fairy.

The End


	2. Victoria

_**Burning Black Interlude  
**_

Victoria

Tom's Diner - Suzanne Vega

* * *

Early morning.

I hate it. I hate it all. I hate this town, I hate this stupid diner, I hate the people here, and I hate the service. I hate the lousy coffee sitting in front of me (the guy didn't even pour the whole cup), I hate the tart that walked in and distracted the waiter, and, most of all, I hate the fact that this is the way life is for me now.

I especially hate that I can't bring up a fight the way I used to when I was young.

This town, this city... Dimmsdale... it's all just so miserable and rotten, and this rain isn't helping any. This whole lousy place seems to be in a permanent gloom streak. It's cold and damp and just so... I dunno. It seeps into people and it sucks them dry of hopes and dreams. You can see it in everyone's eyes. They're all dead inside.

Just like the twerp.

My hands are clenched; they always tighten into fists when I think of him. It's automatic. I used to be his babysitter, and every chance I got, I would find a way to wipe out his happiness for the day.

It's not fair. I was never happy when I was a kid, so why should that punk twerp be happy? All the crap that happened to me, I'd heap it on him double, triple, until he was cowering in a corner.

I'd always thought it'd make me feel better. But it didn't.

Every time, every damn time, when he got miserable, **really** miserable, I'd die a little inside. Like it mattered to me what he felt.

God, this rain won't quit. There are people coming in that look like they fell into a river or something. Some chick outside is trying to keep herself looking fine, using the window like a mirror. Stupid bint doesn't even realize her hairdo's gotten wet.

That makes me grin for all of two seconds.

Why?! Why can't I get happy and stay that way?! Why doesn't the sight of other people in pain and misery make me feel better?! I've tortured the hell out of those other little brats, but it doesn't make this hole inside me go away! I bring them down, but I don't seem to be getting up.

Clawing, kicking, screaming, cursing. My dreams are more nightmares than anything else. How was I to know?! How could any of us have known how important that twerp really was?!

But... I guess the truth is... I had always known.

The more I beat on him and threw him into misery, the more miserable and crappy I felt. But if I watched him from a distance and did nothing, and actually let him have his freaking 'happiness', I had this weird feeling of... like, I dunno.... Like someone took the sun and turned it into a mink coat and then draped it all over me. Like joy became a thing you could touch with your hands, a blanket that wrapped around you and would never rip or anything.

His happiness filled a part of me that I didn't even know was empty.

I felt like I had a heart.

But I wasn't used to it; I was afraid of it. Because, if you had a heart, it could be broken. And that was a pain I knew I couldn't take.

So I tried to break him. If Timmy's heart broke, then I would stop having one. And if I went back to being heartless, I would never be hurt.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Timmy's heart was Dimmsdale's Heart, and breaking him would break me. So all the pain I inflicted came back to me, sometimes even literally. How the hell that little rat managed to dupe me so many times God only knows, but he'd get around me and stay happy and that warmth would just shine off of him and get all over me and AGH!

**I hated it!!!!**

I hated it because I loved it, and that was a sign of having a heart.

My coffee ripples. I blink and realize... I'm crying.

My Heart is gone, and it hurts so much. I feel so lost and empty and cold and....

God, I hate this rain.

I look at my watch. It's six o'clock, Saturday. I'd be at Timmy's house by now, taking my place as babysitter and setting up the cruel chores that always failed to break him.

I drink down my coffee and get up to go to work.

I don't leave a tip. The coffee sucked, the service sucked, and I just didn't feel like it. I hate this town, but there's nowhere I can go now because the emptiness is inside me, too. It's a pain I never wanted to feel, but now it's something I have to live with because something else broke what I had always thought was unbreakable.

The Heart.

The End


	3. Chester

_**Burning Black Interlude  
**_

Chester

Never Will I Break - 3 Doors Down

* * *

The Others huddled together, clutching each other, eyes wide with fear and horror as the older teens stood in a half-circle, fists clenched, weapons in hand, cruel grins twisting their faces as the boy before them got back up and took another stand. The cold gray ground was already splattered with red, but still he stood there, unwavering, green eyes narrowed at the gang.

"Like a punch-clown." one of the older boys snickered derisively, "Knock it down all you like and it'll just come back up again."

Everything hurt. Chester ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth again. Some were loose, the metal beginning to bend and buckle under the blows. Once the barrier of his braces was gone, his teeth were history. His own fists remained in place, bleeding from punches that were made haphazardly in attempts to chase off their attackers.

"Chester!" Sanjay cried out, then whimpered fearfully, retreating into the arms of his friends as the older boys shot him a glare. The blonde scowled faintly. Oh, **now** they start to worry? **Now**, after he had told them a hundred times over not to come this way today?

"Don't hurt 'em." Chester managed to growl at the older kids, "You gonna be mad at somebody, be mad at me. I was Timmy's number one best friend!"

"And as such _you_ should have done more to keep him alive!" another of the bullies snarled, snatching him up by the collar of his shirt and bringing a fist back to punch him again, "And you, being the stupid hick you are, just let him die and now we're suffering 'cause of it!"

"But it wasn't his fault!" A.J. exclaimed, shaking visibly as he stared at the scene before him.

"So? We can't get to the guy responsible, so we're gonna take it out on you little punks that didn't do shit to save him!" a third boy jeered. Chester struggled, lashing out wildly with fists and feet.

"Leave them alone! I'm the one you should be pounding on! I was Timmy's best friend and I didn't save him!" he yelled furiously and shot a glare at the Others, "Guys! Run!" He turned his attention back on his captor and promptly sank his teeth into the boy's arm. The teen shrieked in pain, distracting the group from the Others as they scrambled to escape and vanished from the area.

"Why you little-!" the injured teen growled and Chester jumped back from the advancing group, glaring up at them with his fists held up. This wasn't going to end well. They never did.

_"But I promised Timmy I'd protect them for him. I guess this is the only way I can."_ he thought to himself and clenched his teeth together as he shut his eyes tightly and launched himself into the waiting assault.

* * *

It felt like ages had gone by before the bullies had tired of their fun and left him, nowhere near happier than they had been when they first started attacking the Others. Chester remained where he lay, partially curled against a dumpster as he tried to block out the pain of his broken arm and battered body. Remnants of his braces were scattered at his feet. He sighed shakily, wincing as even the mere act of breathing sent waves of pain through him, then coughed, sending another spray of blood to spatter against his torn jeans.

This was getting monotonous. Ever since Timmy's funeral three months ago, the Others had become the subject of every kid's fury, borne from misery and frustration and despair. And every time Chester heard through the grapevine that someone was going to jump the gang to vent, he would warn his friends and tell them to go a different way. But they ignored him, resenting what looked to them like a guy trying to take Timmy's place by force and order them around for no reason.

So they refused to listen and when A.J., Sanjay, Elmer and Tootie found themselves startled to see bullies pop up as they walked together, Chester would dart in from the shadows to take the attack himself. And the beatings he'd taken were always brutal. Out of the ten or so attacks he'd diverted, three of them had left him unconscious in the streets, two required hospitalization for a short time, and one had resulted in a broken leg that hadn't fully healed until just last week.

He groaned softly as several shadows passed over him. Oh, great, back for more. Chester growled faintly, struggling to get up and face the threat once again.

"Don't move. It's us." Tootie whispered softly, shakily. The Others gathered around the blonde, tending to injuries with a small bit of experience as the only girl in the group held out a first aid kit for them to work from. Chester screamed once, when A.J. set the bone in his arm properly, then went silent while Sanjay splinted it as best he could. Tootie reached into her backpack, muttering softly as she began bringing out several bottles of water, which were then used to wash away as much of the bloody mess as they could from his clothes and face. A couple of aspirins to help with the pain and Chester was able to stand on his own, if only a little unsteadily.

"Now will you listen to me?" he finally growled at the Others harshly, a surge of emotion coursing through him as the boys and girl stared at him with wide eyes, shrinking back slightly, "Every time! Every time I find out what's gonna happen, I tell you guys about it so you don't get all beat up! But you never listen! You just ignore me and then this happens!" He waved his good arm in agitation, struggling through the slowly fading pain. "I can't keep taking these beatings for you, you know! Sure, I got Medicaid and all that junk to help me out, but it's not exactly fun getting the crud knocked out of ya for being Timmy's friend and not doin' anything to stop him from gettin' killed!" he finished and glared at the group.

They blinked back at him and Chester lifted an eyebrow. They still remained silent. He looked at each one in irritation. Had they even listened to him then?

"Well?" he demanded.

"We're waiting for orders, Chester, sir." Elmer remarked hesitantly, "What should we do?" Now it was the blonde's turn to blink at them in astonishment.

"Huh?" he managed to ask.

"You're absolutely right, Chester. We should have listened to you all along." A.J. agreed, "You were just trying to keep us safe, and we didn't do anything to help. So, let's change it up." Sanjay nodded eagerly and promptly saluted him.

"We will follow your commands from now on, Chester! How can we help each other keep our hopes alive if we are being beaten senseless by bullies?" he declared, "Lead the way!"

Chester blinked again, then allowed a smile to slowly spread across his face. Finally! They were getting the idea! He was just trying to keep them safe; that was what he had promised Timmy and no matter how beat up he got, he was going to keep that promise. He held out his good hand to the group.

"All right, then, Others! If we're gonna watch out for each other, then let's learn how to work together like a team so we, mainly me but definitely we, don't get the stuffing knocked out of us all the time!" he declared and the kids all put their hands out over his in agreement.

"For Timmy!"

* * *

That had been years ago, and after sessions of training the Others to respond to hand signals and his own personal run-ins with the tougher gangs in the alleys of Dimmsdale, Chester grew into his new role as Leader of the Others. Word spread; don't mess with the Others unless you think you can take on the underground master of street-brawling.

And once again, someone was trying to do just that.

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey!" Chester snapped at the boss of a bunch of thugs. Just what he didn't need, a confrontation between the Others and some random street gang while on night patrol in Dimmsdale. It was hard enough dealing with the various threats from the magical realms, but add in the idiots that wanted to spread a new wave of misery around and things had the potential to go to hell in a real bad way. "Get the hell out of the way! We've got a job to do and you're blocking our path!" he added in irritation.

The other guy only grinned and his posse shifted positions automatically when he began tapping a metal pipe against his palm. Oh, crud. Chester knew this move. He'd seen it a few times before as a kid; hell, he'd been the victim of it twice before. Quickly, he scanned the surroundings. The alley was barely large enough, but there should be room for the counterattack he'd created for that move.

"C'mon! We haven't got all night to be lookin' at yer ugly mugs!" Chester snapped, spreading his arms away from his sides as he yelled. A distraction as his hands did the real speaking. It was one of his rare, hidden talents, inventing secret codes and signals, and they served him well as no one but the Others could even get the idea of what the random movements were for. _/A.J., flank to the left and target the one with the chain. He'll move in on Tootie. Toots, jump to the right when A.J. moves in and go after Mohawk there. He's got a lazy eye and won't be able to see you that well./_

_/Sanjay, target the guy on the far right; he's gonna barrel after me while Big Boss does something flashy to try to fake me out. Tricks, back him up if the guy manages to dodge the shot. Elmer, go after the freak with the gold tooth, but be careful. He's gonna jump back and toss out some kinda smokescreen. You're the only one equipped to knock junk like that back on people./_

_/On my mark!/_

"You should have done more to keep the Heart safe." the pipe-wielder sneered, "And you shoulda just stayed put where I left ya as a kid, with the shit beat outta ya for being stupid!" And Chester's hands froze, his eyes widening at the memory.

This was the same guy; this was the same gang. These were the same bullies who beat him into near submission so long ago. A surge of anger sang through him. What the hell was the matter with these people? Here he was, trying to save the city with his friends, so that these punks could be happy again... and they still wanted a piece of him because of something that happened to Timmy years ago! His fingers flicked again.

_/The idiot who just talked is mine!/_

And the pipe-wielder lashed out suddenly, moments after Chester flicked out the signal to move, and the blonde was already out of danger, the rest of the Others taking positions and attacking the gang members before they knew what was going on.

"Hey! That wasn't s'posed ta happen!"

"Boss! It didn't work!"

"Waaah! That hurts!"

Their cries of shock and pain filled the air, and Chester grinned at their boss' expression of astonishment as he stood back, hands spread out and flickering rapidly, a puppet-master controlling his team of warriors.

"I know your plan, Dude. I know its strengths, and I know its weakness. No matter what you do, I can counter it." the blonde chuckled, "So why don't you crawl back into whatever ditch upchucked you and leave me and my pals to our business?"

"You little-!" the pipe-wielder fumed and raced forward, bringing his weapon around to smash into him.

"No! Don't hurt him!" Trixie cried out and darted in the way, leaving a stunned Chester to watch in horror as she took the blow meant for him and flew across the alley. She landed with a sickening thud against the brick wall and sank down, silent and motionless.

"One down, and you're next, you little freak!" the boss sneered, adjusting his grip on the bloodied pipe. The blonde stared at the girl, the only true Popular that gave up her rank to join him and stand by him, sharing in his guilt over Timmy's death and seeking to make amends. The girl that had learned to put others before herself after experiencing true misery. The girl that now lay as still as Timmy had so many years ago. He walked towards her, ignoring the pipe-wielder as he stalked after him, weapon raising for the finishing blow, then knelt to brush her hair aside and lift her face.

She looked blankly up at him, Asian eyes wide and dark as streams of red trailed from her temple and mouth.

"Heh, I broke yer little girlfriend and now I'm gonna break-!" the other teen yelled as he brought down the pipe... only to find it halted in mid-blow by the blonde's hand gripping it tightly, an infuriated glare aimed directly at him as the Leader of the Others slowly stood up, pushing back on the pipe as his lips pulled back in a snarl.

"Never!" he hissed, and the pipe bent under the force, the wielder staring at him in terror as he moved back to try escaping the intimidating glare. "Never! Never! _Never!_" Chester continued snarling, "Do what you want to yourself, to your flunkies, even to me, but you are **never **to hurt my friends! And. I. Will. **Never.** _**Break!**_"

The pipe snapped and he spun, lashing out with a roundhouse kick that sent the gang leader flying much the same way Trixie had been thrown aside. The commotion caused by his gang and the Others immediately halted, all eyes drawn towards Chester in a myriad of expressions ranging from shock to horror, fear to awe. The blonde stood there, fists clenched tightly and murderous glare fixed on the older thug sinking against the side of the building, staring up at him in terror. He took a step forward and the gang leader lifted his arms for protection.

"S-stay back!" he pleaded.

"I should grind you into a bloody mess and leave you here to die. Just like you did with me." Chester growled, already shifting into the stance that would deliver one of the most lethal of street-brawling attacks.

_"Chester. Stop."_

And just like that, everyone held their breaths, searching for the source of the voice. Chester paused in his stance, glaring up immediately to locate the speaker.

Standing erect and almost proudly on the rail of the fire escape above them, a figure hidden by the shadows gazed down at him. Even from where he stood, the blonde could feel the icy look being leveled at him.

"Give me one good reason why I should let this waste of air live, especially after what he did to Trixie!" Chester shot back in a fury, "She's dead! Or at least damn close enough to it that I might not get her back!" The figure didn't move.

_"Make your wish."_ it only said.

"I wish...!"

_"But I will not take a life unnecessarily. All life is precious, human and otherwise. Have I taught you nothing?"_

Chester growled and kicked at the ground, sending a skittering of dust and pebbles in the direction of the cowering thug before him.

"I wish Trixie was restored." he finally declared, glaring at gang leader, "Fully healed and everything. Can you do that?"

_"Granted."_ the figure replied and flicked a hand towards Trixie's fallen form, _"Bring back this soul from purgatory! Resurrection! Light of mana, mend this broken form! Cure!"_

A brilliant burst of light and Trixie blinked in confusion, sitting up as she rubbed at her head.

"Wh-whah? What happened?" she asked and looked around at everyone before taking their cues and looking up at the dark figure. Her eyes widened. "Oh! It's you!" she breathed in awe, "Thank you..."

_"I didn't make the wish."_

"Next, I wish these idiots here were sent someplace else. Get them out of my face before I decide to ignore you and freakin' kill this one." Chester snarled, aiming his last growl at the thug that whimpered and tried to crawl away.

_"Granted."_ the figure repeated and spread its arms out to encompass the group below it, _"Opposing force upon this plane, punishments are yours to gain. Sent to those who keep the peace, your lives to them I do release. Transportare!"_

Each thug was whisked out of the alley by small blasts of colorful mist, mana of all colors and elements. Chester huffed in scorn and turned to help Trixie get to her feet.

_"If it's any consolation, I made sure the big one got a bumpy landing."_

Chester paused, looked back up at the figure in surprise, then burst into laughter, a relieving sound that relaxed the Others and had them join in as well. They gathered together to check on the former Popular and be sure she was truly all right, while their leader broke away to walk closer to where the figure stood.

"Thanks for the help. So, we'll see you after patrol?" he asked.

_"Probably not. I've got homework and Mom won't let me do anything beyond patrols until I finish it."_ the figure replied with a lighter tone, _"But if you find anything that needs sealing, gimme a call. I'll make up something to avoid having to type a three-hundred word essay on Tibequadoran culture."_

"That's what you get for wishing a country into existence." Chester jabbed.

_"Remind me later to erase it and relocate the people. By the way, what you said earlier..."_

"Yeah? What? What'd I say?" Chester questioned, "If it's about killing that guy..."

_"No. About how you would never break. Why did you say that?"_

The blonde blinked, then allowed a small grin to cross his face. Bones had broken, teeth had been knocked out, blood had been spilled. His life should have ended many times over in the course of his role as Leader of the Others and before it, but every time he was battered and beaten, Chester simply rose above it. Pressing on through the pain and misery, fighting still and chanting within him those four little words that, until today, had never been spoken aloud.

His spirit, his will, had only been strengthened with each blow his body took.

"I will never break." Chester simply replied, "I have something stronger than what those guys have. I fight for someone who made me see that I can be strong for those I care about; I fight for the people who rely on me and need me. Because of everyone, I will never break."

_"I think I get it."_ the figure murmured, _"Stay strong, Chester. Never break, and those you care for will never be broken either."_ With that, the figure leaped delicately from the rail into the air and simply vanished. Chester grinned up at the empty air and gave a small salute.

"That's a promise I aim to keep, Timmy." he returned softly, "To make up for all the broken ones."

The End


	4. Sanjay

A/N: Burning Black Interlude poll open on my profile. Just for the sake of curiosity.

* * *

_**Burning Black Interlude  
**_

Sanjay

Collide - Skillet

* * *

I check the area quickly, furtively, searching for danger. All is clear. Not a soul in sight.

Emerging from my hiding spot within the shop, I make my way down the street, darting from shadow to shadow. It is dark, so my cover is very good tonight, if not absolute. This is most welcome, as I do not want to be discovered yet.

There is a package in my hands and I wish for it to be delivered unharmed. If I should run into one of those many brutes that prowl the streets....

No, I cannot think of such things. That is what they want and I shall not give them what they want. I will keep my hope alive! But... it is so very hard to do in this city.

Everywhere, everywhere, there are fights and cries of misery and pain and suffering. It is most depressing. Children make their wishes to the heavens, but they are never answered. I know why, and it brings me such pain to know that my voice is often among them, my wish also goes unheard.

But, I have begun to let go of that. He would not want me to be so sad. He is my hope and my light, as he was the hope and light for everyone here. Deep down, I have his memory and all of the joys that he had brought us are stored there, to be drawn upon when the sadness threatens to overwhelm me.

It has been so long, though. The memories are fading, and that most rude boy is attempting to usurp his title. And I can see through his scheme; the Heart is gone and he wishes to take his place and poison us even further with his false joy. I am most indignant at this.

Careful, careful. I am almost there.

I hold my treasure closer. It is all I can afford for tonight. I must earn my allowance, and I spend more time with the Others in their pursuits than in my chores. But I have saved and counted and I have purchased my offering. One more in a long line of offerings.

--

I am here.

Dimmsdale Cemetery. He rests there now.

In this city, we are all quite stupid. It is something of a curse and a blessing all in one. Because we do not 'know', we are able to 'feel' much more easily, and emotions rule us all quite strongly. Frustration, anger, jealousy, lust, greed, these are only a few of the emotions and feelings that Dimmsdale can tune itself to and our behaviors reflect this. But hidden beneath that, around that, within that, was happiness. Joy. Love. Optimism.

Hope.

This was the power of the Heart of Dimmsdale, the one who radiated these feelings in a brilliant aura that touched the lives of all people here. As long as we had the Heart, Dimmsdale had hope and it would live and breathe and exist another day.

And then that most tragic day occurred and we lost the Heart. We lost his magic and his blessings and Dimmsdale began to die. Ah, the adults do not know this because they are most stupid and fell to despair that much more quickly, but the children felt it through their waning happiness. They struggle every day to hold onto what remains of their joy but with each day their wishes go unheard, that joy begins to fade as well.

It is my honest belief that, now, only the Others maintain our clarity of minds. This is because we all agree on one thing; our beloved Timmy Turner did not _just _die from an accident. There is simply no reason for it. He was incapable of taking fatal injury, almost as though he were shielded by some unseen force that halted immediate danger before it reached him. It could not have abandoned him that day he climbed the jungle gym, although he did look somewhat guilty and worried during school.

So, whatever it was that led to his death was not his fault, and it was no accident. Chester believes this, I believe this, the rest of the Others agree that Timmy's death was most controversial, but it was not until Chester convinced A.J. to create the scenario simulator that we all saw that the 'accident' could not be explained by fact and physics and science. And it is my belief, right to the heart of my soul, that only a power greater than Timmy's ability to bring life to Dimmsdale stole his life away. Something more happened, but I do not know what.

The marker is just ahead of me. I approach it in my most solemn march, for it is customary to be honored in the presence of such a beloved one. Already his grave is covered with gifts, and my own offering seems so meager and plain in comparison. Nonetheless, I place it down gently beneath his name.

A small prayer to ask for his forgiveness in failing to protect him and for his blessing in seeking the answer to our question, and I am ready to continue on my way. I turn from the grave and begin to walk away, when the wind suddenly seems to pick up and I hear a voice call to me, familiar and at the same time, not.

"Hey, you remembered what today was! Thanks!"

I spin around in alarm; had I not checked this area thoroughly enough?! Had I overlooked some threat to my self in this cemetery, or worse still, a threat to my dear Heart's grave?! Who spoke those words and possessed knowledge of this day?

Fearing for the safety of the tombstone, I run back to the little grave and examine it carefully. There is no damage, and everything is as pristine as when I arrived... only....

My gift is gone.

Today is the day that I first met Timmy when he had been voted school president. He had wanted to be part of the Library Assistance Club, of which I had been leader, but it resulted in his immediate dismissal from office, which he did not seem to miss at all. It had been quite scandalous, but after all was said and done, Timmy had thanked me for my help in his escape and offered friendship to me, which I had been sorely lacking because of my status as 'Foreign Child'. It was then that I became an Other, and I loved him most of all the Others for first extending friendship to me.

The gift I had purchased and which had been taken was a Timmy Bear that I had requested to be made with a presidential button and jacket, in honor of that day.

There was a gift left behind in its place. A 'Vote for Timmy' button that had been made during his run for election, and had never been made again since then. I collect it and study it, a sense of calm and comfort seeming to surround my self as I hold it.

Could it be? Could it be that this exchange was from...?

....

I place the button in my pocket and leave the grave behind once more. My faith has rewarded me with the strength to go on; somehow, someway, Timmy will continue to bless us all with his love and hope. We must continue in his honor and discover what truly took place that day. It is only then that he will have peace and we can begin to rebuild our hearts.

The End


	5. Wanda

_**Burning Black Interlude  
**_

Wanda

Cosmos (Outer Space) - Tatu

* * *

The fairy exhaled in relief, floating and drifting along in peace. A wonderful thing had happened; she had found somewhere to go that she could be in peace with her family.

She didn't want to play these games anymore, these intricate dances with Fairy World, the Pixies, the Earth. There was always a winner and a loser in them that was predictable. Everyone else won, she always lost. She was tired of it, so very tired of it all. They could kill everything and everyone now, as they had in the past. She didn't care anymore. She was numb to them. As long as she had her family, she could go on not caring.

Her time with Timmy Turner, her godchild, had been cut short, just as her time with her baby had been cut. Mere minutes of holding that tiny bundle in her arms, of experiencing joy, real joy, and it was all wasted away, squandered, stolen, by the feud between Fairy World and Pixie Inc. that always seemed to come first somehow. She'd never felt so cold as the day she watched her baby be snatched away, lost to her, forever it felt like. It played over in her nightmares, a fiendish movie that relayed the events as if it happened to someone else, but then she would wake and realize, it was her. She was the star, that tiny, isolated, broken little star of her horror movie. But she promised herself, this was not how her story would end. She wouldn't let the curtain fall until she had her joy back, one way or another.

So she held her emotions in check, didn't strive too far or too high. She didn't reach for the stars, not anymore. It was too painful a reminder of what had happened; the stars had been beautiful the day her baby fell. It left scars on her heart, scars that she didn't want healed. She wanted the anger and hurt to stay there as a shield, protecting her until that day when she would finally win. The day where she would take her husband and her beloved little child and fly away, somewhere, to a place where they would never be reached.

Now she was surrounded by stars, beautiful, sparkling, cold-hearted stars. They twinkled, they glowed, they burned in white hot fury, simmered in frigid hues, all around her. All around her and Cosmo and their godchild.

On Earth, they chased the winds, the clouds, the dreams of a little boy in a silly pink hat. They faced down all kinds of childhood villains, saved the world in numerous ways, had adventure after adventure together. And she was happy. She brought down her shield bit by bit, until the day it hit her. Who she found, what she discovered, and joy surged through her, brought her back to life. Instincts returned and the three of them became tightly knit, so close and so loved by one another that it made other godparents jealous. And they never knew why. Why it was that her magic and Cosmo's magic became so much more powerful when around their little godchild. Why they would go to any length to keep him in their lives, why she would move heaven and hell and Earth itself to hold that human boy again and again and again.

Now she could hold him anytime she wanted, no fuss involved. Not in this secret place she found, this wonderful place that no one could reach unless they traveled for years and years at a faster speed than her family. Faster than the speed of light, faster than the speed of darkness.

Space! Outer space! She smiled widely at seeing the universe spread before her in all its glory. So beautiful, so open, so free! She just about giggled madly at the thought of being able to fly through it all with Cosmo and Timmy, forever together. The endless seas of space was all theirs to traverse, to sail and adventure through.

This was their home now. She had Cosmo conjure up an appropriate vessel to make their home and they sailed together with Timmy through the vast reaches. She felt herself awash in joy, beaming at the sight of her husband and their sweet little boy both at the portholes, gazing out at the stars with awe.

They would never land on another planet. She made that clear to them. She didn't want to feel the ground, the confines of an atmosphere that blanketed a world and suffocated its freedom. She didn't want to chance coming across a world with its own connection to Fairy World. Not after she had finally found what they had tried to steal from her and Cosmo, what they had failed to steal. It was her treasure, her precious. She wasn't going to risk letting anyone see her treasure. No way. They had lost so much time, so much time. So many firsts gone and never recoverable. And it was all **their** fault.

So she burned the bridges, cast aside connections, embraced exile and the life of a fugitive with open arms, glad for it because she shared it with the ones she loved most. And they embraced it with her, because they shared the joy of being together, of never wanting to part from one another ever again.

They were free together. There was no guarantee that they would remain free, but she would make damn sure that they would be together for as close to forever as she could get it. And if that was ever compromised, well....

They'd be together and happy forever in another plane of existence.

They sailed wherever they wanted, visited new galaxies and star systems, coasted alongside comets. No one could trace their convoluted route, and she was happy for that. They could go anywhere they wanted to go. They could decide on their paths in life. And she would wait, listening for a sign from their pursuers, watching for them. And when one appeared....

--

Is it gone? Has it died?

She was fairly sure of it after returning from her personal outing, but just to be safe, she sent Cosmo back to double check. And he did. Violently. Timmy remarked that he'd never really been near a supernova like that before. He sounded a bit frightened but she was there to comfort him and that was all he needed. He smiled and leaned into her embrace and then chatted happily over cake and soda when Cosmo returned with his own smile.

She had no tears left in her. None at all. Her eyes were completely dry now. What use did she have for tears when there were no more sorrows to weep over? Only joy and love existed for her, shielding her and her family from anxiety, from fear. Those feelings were faint, but not important enough to dwell on. This was their secret place, as though all of space was created just for them to live in.

This was where they were meant to be. Out here in the rich expanses, full of stars and galaxies. They sat together in the ship, watching the stars dance endlessly. Time seemed to fade away; there had been no real attempt to keep track. Their voices began to fade as well. No use speaking, since they were so close, so bonded, it seemed as though they communed on another level. Timmy's voice faded the quickest, growing softer and softer until he fell silent, gazing up at her with a tiny smile.

Just you and me, you and me.

--

Cosmo, that idiot, had gone off to race a nearby comet. He had chased the stars gleefully, spun around moons and planets. He danced a merry jig in orbit around one of the pretty stars. The star grew even more beautiful when it went nova. She had rolled her eyes and brought him back on board. He was a bit odd-colored, and stuck to his silence like glue, but she still loved him and Timmy had enough tears for them both and she hugged him and told him that it was fine. They were still together and that was all that mattered. It surprised her that her voice still worked. It was very soft, but that was okay.

Timmy didn't answer her. He had stopped speaking long before her and Cosmo. She wasn't sure why, but it was fine. They communed on another level. Words were useless in a place where atmosphere didn't exist. Only love. Endless love. Her love for him, his for her. Her family. Here. Together. All that mattered. Just this.

No, it was not an obsession. Just a fairy intent on keeping her loved ones close, forever. Protected from those that would steal them away.

----

His voice was gone now. He had fallen asleep, curled up in her arms. She cuddled him, gently because he was still sleeping and he felt a bit stiff and cold but that was all right because she had a blanket she pulled over them both. Cosmo refused to help her. Just sat in the corner with his overdone tan and his pouting muteness. That was fine. She was a good mother. She'd take care of them all.

She just needed a nap first. And when she woke up, she would prod her husband and their little boy out of their naps and they would go out to watch the stars again because it just so happened that their little ship was coming up on a large cluster of them and my, my, didn't they look so bright and beautiful....

She smiled at the idea of spending so much time with her family, then rested her cheek on Timmy's head, gently because his hair was so brittle now and he should use more conditioner on it, and closed her eyes and faded away into pleasant dreams, sleeping soundly.

And they were together again, happy, forever, in another plane.

The End


	6. Tootie

_**Burning Black Interlude  
**_

Tootie

Our Farewell - Within Temptation

* * *

She looked down at the picture in her hands. It was old, well-worn from repeated hugs and kisses, wrinkled from having been handled so much. Still, it was her favorite because it captured his smile so vibrantly, the sparkle of his eyes, the utter cuteness of his chubby face. Tootie sighed softly, gazing down at the photo. Yes, her favorite. Above all else, it was her most prized possession, even above that unbreakable action figure, because it was the last memory of the happy Heart of Dimmsdale. Of Timmy Turner as the cheerful little boy surrounded by a magic that made him the heart and soul of the city, influencing its joys and life just by being there.

"Tootie."

She heard him call to her. How often in her dreams as a little girl had she yearned for that? For him to call to her in his scratchy, little-boy, almost-sounds-like-a-girl voice and say anything, even if it was to remind her of his restraining order. A voice that had not been heard in four years. A voice that had been stolen away, along with her dreams, her love, her joys.

A voice that had been lost when he died.

She lifted her gaze from the Timmy in the photo, the Timmy of the past, to see the Timmy of the present, the boy who escaped Death and lost his past and future in the process.

She looked up at Timmy, the new Timmy, who had called to her with a voice that wasn't scratchy and always on the verge of merry mischief, but soft and dark and cold. He was holding something in his hands, his gloved hands. Tootie looked down at the picture again. No gloves. Timmy of the past wore nothing like that. Timmy of the now had to avoid leaving fingerprints, a paranoia of discovery drilled into him by his cousin and mentor. She looked up at him again. He only stared back at her, silent. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

Was that a smile? Tootie blinked. It looked like he was trying to smile. She tried to picture it on his face, partially shrouded by his brown hair flopping down in the way again, as always. A smile. That would be nice to see from him again.

She sighed again, gloom settling on her as she stepped out of the joys of her memories into the present. He stepped forward, closer to her, and she stiffened in sudden alarm. What was he going to do? She yearned for a hug, a warm comforting gesture, like the rare ones the Timmy of the past would give her. Awkward but heartfelt, and wrapped in the natural cotton of the pink shirt he wore. Tootie watched the Timmy of the present with veiled apprehension. The pink shirt had been cast aside in favor of a sleeveless midnight blue turtleneck, soft and thick and warm, to hide his lack of heartbeat and near-total lack of breathing. For how could a corpse have a pulse and why would the dead need air?

Black pants and black shoes, not baggy, clingy almost, and soles made for traction; clothes for a shadow, a thief in the night, a soul not of the world or abiding the laws of nature. She looked down at the picture, then up at him. No hat. That pink hat of his was his symbol, it preceded him no matter what. Think of Timmy and that hat came first, even before the big buck teeth that could gouge out the ground if he ever tripped.

No more. Dental work reduced the teeth, to hide them behind lips that always seemed pursed into thin grimaces and scowls, never smiling. And the hat was gone, just gone. Bring it up in a talk and Timmy of the present would look at you as if his sense of duty as a Hero-in-training was all that kept him from outright killing you then and there. Timmy of the past loved his hat; Timmy of the present treated the mentions of it as though it were a vile disease.

But no air of darkness tonight, no feeling of barely kept anger. Tonight was... different.

He was silent, gazing at her with a strange expression. She tried to look into his eyes and he glanced away. Something felt wrong. He felt... sad.

Was he leaving again?

The thought gripped Tootie's heart in its icy grip. No, not again! He left when he died and it nearly destroyed her. If he left again, when everything was the way it was now... she... Dimmsdale... everyone... but she most of all....

And then she felt it. A worrying thrum in the air, a feeling of anxiety. It came from him. He was worried about something. The city. It had to be. He was Dimmsdale's Hero, in training but still their Hero, and something was very wrong now. Such sad blue eyes. What was making those blue eyes so sorrowful?

"Here." he suddenly said and thrust a small package into her hands, then turned and raced away, darting into the shadows of the nearest alley and vanishing. Tootie blinked in surprise, clutching the present without realizing what had just happened. The sudden explosion that rocked the ground brought her back to her senses and she held the package tightly as she fought to keep her balance. How long had that been going on? It felt like forever since the assault on the city began. Team Turner had rallied to fight back and Timmy of the present immediately denied them. This was entirely his fault, he had claimed, so only he could fight against the threat and save the city.

It had always been like that for him. Friends? Timmy of the past had friends; Timmy of the present did not. They were useful, yes, but they could also compromise him and a compromised Hero was soon destroyed by the enemy. He had to always stand by himself. He was alone, in his mind.

He had to be alone.

Tootie looked to the sky as three figures shot across it to face the next barrage of attacks. The fairies, figures. Fairy flight was Timmy's favorite mode of travel, and Cosmo and Wanda were only too happy to oblige.

She didn't get to say anything to him.

That struck Tootie at the moment and she hugged the package to her body, holding back her tears, trying not to lose control as all around her, Dimmsdale quaked. Not a chance to say good luck, be safe, be careful. No chance, no time... to say fare well. Not farewell, fare well. She couldn't say goodbye in any form to him. Not to Timmy.

--

The battle raged overhead. Tootie could watch from the streets, surrounded by the members of Team Turner as they gazed up at the brilliance of light and fire and magic in the heavens, waiting for their leader to emerge victorious; surrounded by the population of Dimmsdale as they prayed and cried and screamed aloud to be saved, to be spared, to let their Hero win and save them all.

The rest of the world was oblivious, of course. This was a magic attack on a city seeped with the stuff; they simply ignored Dimmsdale's personal hell and went on with life. She wondered briefly on the cruelty of the world, why it would act like that towards their city. She concluded that it was jealous. Dimmsdale had Timmy Turner, the pure Heart. The world did not.

Around her neck was the last gift Timmy had given her, thrust into her hands just before he took off to fight off the assault. A tiny clay doll made to resemble her, a Reverse Doll. In case anything happened. Her heart had soared upon seeing it. He cared! Proof that he cared, that he really did, deep down, love her. Why else would he give her a charm that could spare her from death if his _Revive_ spell failed?

But what if it was a sign? A sign that he might not be there to protect her, so this was all he could offer to spare her? A sign that... he was saying goodbye with this charm? What if... this battle... was too...?

Her mind spun with questions and horrors as she stared up at the sky. Lost, so lost, she couldn't think, couldn't focus. Only that feeling of sickness that something was terribly wrong. A dread feeling.

_Don't say goodbye. Never say farewell to me. _She chanted the words to herself. And the violent storm of magic swirled faster high above. She could feel it, everyone could.

It was coming down to the last blow.

And it came.

Tootie's eyes widened as the crowd around her let out a collective scream of horror and despair.

Timmy was falling!

Limp body spiraling down, streams of magic tearing away from him as they failed to sustain him, sustain themselves. Cosmo and Wanda raced after him, desperate to stop the fall. Beams of pink and green and the boy was captured in a bubble of magic, the fall becoming a slow descent rather than a destructive dive. The storm above spread out with thunder booming in cruel victory.

She found herself pushing past people, scrambling to get through the forest of petrified onlookers and to his side.

And she was there when the bubble landed, dissipated, deposited Timmy on the street where he lay silent and unmoving. Broken. The fairies clung to each other by him, looking devastated, eyes glazed and unfocused, staring at the boy and yet not seeing him at all. Tootie knelt by him, afraid to touch him lest he crumble to dust under her fingertips.

If she only had her bracelets, she would heal him, but they had been stolen, ripped away from her the last time she tried to help fight off their attackers.

Hands trembling, she reached out at last and picked him up, pulled him into her arms and held him, praying for a sign that he would revive. After all, he was immortal... already dead... couldn't die.... So, he should still be okay, right? Right?

It was like he was sleeping. So silent. The cold was just from the wind. He was resting after such a tough battle and he hadn't won yet. Just give him a little time and Timmy will get back up and take off after those guys again.

She wouldn't say farewell. He didn't, so there was no need to. She'd wait all night. She'd wait as many nights as he would take to sleep. She would be the first face he'd see when he woke up and he would smile and thank her for being there and then fly off to fight the evils of the magical realms again. For her.

Because this wasn't farewell. They never said it. It didn't count. This was not farewell.

This wasn't....

The End


	7. Trixie

A/N: Soooo sorry for the mix-up some ppl might have about Tootie's Interlude. I posted while half asleep and confused it with Trixie's because 1) both girls have T names, and 2) both Interludes are based on Within Temptation songs. So here's a couple extra to make up for it, including the REAL Forsaken Interlude.

* * *

_**Burning Black Interlude**_

Trixie

Forsaken – Within Temptation

* * *

She remembered when she was secure in her world, when all was as it should be as commanded by the unbreakable order laid down by The Chart. When Populars ruled the school, the Others were trampled down and used as mats under their feet, and she ruled over them all as the undisputed Queen of Popularity.

She remembered being beautiful in everyone's eyes and loving her reflection in every shiny surface she came across. How her hair was luxurious and long and shimmered gloriously. How her eyes shone, surrounded by thick dark lashes that made the girls jealous. How her lips were perfect for pouting and could form radiant smiles. How her skin was flawless and milky white, like cream, pure and unspoiled. Only the finest and most expensive clothes graced her lovely body. All the boys adored her, everyone would do anything for her, just to bask in her beauty.

She remembered being loved for her lies. For how she could manipulate the masses to do her bidding. Sweet lies and false promises of favors to boys, especially those of the Others category, if they did what she ordered. Lies she presented to the world to hide her true self, pasting up posters of pretty pony comics and holding up fashion magazines to shield the action comics and wrestling star posters she kept secreted away.

She remembered being happy at the expense of being confined to the rules of popularity, to the chains of being Queen. It was bearable, as long as she was loved, was beautiful, and was secure in her place and role. And the days went by in Dimmsdale like this, the goddess surrounded by her masses of worshipers.

* * *

She remembered the day she learned she wasn't the center of Dimmsdale. When the eyes of adoration turned away from her and fastened on **him** in horror, then grief, then sheer despair. And she learned that despite all she had in her corner, the joy **he** brought to them all was incomparable to her wealth and beauty.

She remembered feeling strangely empty when the funeral took place. Like a numbness had settled into her body and a rock took the place of her heart. It took seeing the little coffin lowering into the ground for her to realize that **he** was truly gone and the day just seemed so dark and depressing. Faintly, she wondered how long before she could ever smile again.

She remembered the day she realized she would never smile again. The long rule of The Chart had been destroyed; only the Heart of Dimmsdale ruled them all. **He** was complete and absolute in his power. Without the Heart to shine joy for them, no joy would ever be had in Dimmsdale. The holidays died for them. What was the point now? Their greed in caring only about themselves had blinded them to what was truly important. Now **he** was gone, and they were all forsaken.

* * *

She remembered the day she decided she didn't care enough to be beautiful anymore. She gazed at her reflection and hated it for being the symbol of her vanity and blindness to the Heart. She let her hair dry, too wound up in gloom to bathe it in expensive shampoos and conditioners. Her eyes were red from weeping, her face puffy, dark circles from restless sleep making her look ghastly. Still, she looked marginally better than most people, and for that she was pretty, but not beautiful.

She remembered when the counselors at school gave up. Grief books filled their shelves and there were no more talks of the future, of sharing hopes and dreams and asking 'What do you want to be when you grow up?' They merely sat there, watching their little office stress-relief toys with empty eyes, waiting. Waiting for the day to end, waiting for the week to pass, waiting and waiting. She had gone to see them to try and get help, but it seemed like everyone was beyond help.

She remembered waking up one day to find that she had spent the past few years in a haze of sorrow and numbness, and realizing there was no end in sight. She wondered if it was even worth it to try living another day like this. Unable to answer that, or perhaps not caring enough to try, she remained in bed.

She remembered the day she called Dimmsdale nothing but ruins, a city full of walking dead. There was no life here; everyone merely existed, going through the motions of living until their ends came in one form or another. There was nothing there. Only emptiness and the feeling that their time had run out. Dimmsdale was dying, had been dying, ever since their Heart passed away. It wasn't much longer now. Another year at the most. Then the city would collapse and that would be that. She dreaded the idea of bearing witness to Dimmsdale's death. A chill ran down her spine and she pulled the covers around herself more closely.

She remembered holding the bottle in her hands, turning it over and over so that her fingers could feel the cool plastic, the smooth and curved surface. Sleep had been hard to come by lately, and always restless, so she was given some medicine for it. She found herself fascinated by the bottle, turning it again and again in her hands as she sat in bed, gazing out the window at the skyline. No one bothered to send her to school anymore. Everyone agreed in some silent fashion; they had no future. Why pretend? The effort of the lie was just so tiring. She took a couple of pills and curled up against her pillows, clutching the bottle as she slept.

She remembered watching the sunset as she turned the bottle in her hands again. It had been pretty, but so sad. Like watching the hopes die down in the city, the sun they called the Heart had set in Dimmsdale, never to rise again. The sky had been painted in red, then swallowed by the coolness of the darkening blues that turned to black, stars peeping out to shine on the lifeless city. She was tired of watching the sun rise and set in the same way, time frozen in misery. She wanted to sleep, and wake up to something different, to a day with hope again. She wanted the days when the Heart was alive, and the city knew joy and hope and happiness.

She remembered filling her hand with pills. She wanted to sleep until the day the Heart returned. Two only got her to the next day; she needed enough to last her longer. She filled her hand and swallowed them with little trouble. When she grew drowsy, she wrapped the blankets around herself and snuggled against the pillows, clutching the bottle until she drifted away, dreaming of the Heart with his average brown hair and bright blue eyes and silly pink hat.

She was beautiful once again. Her dark hair was long and luxurious and shimmered gloriously. Her lips were perfect for pouting, but they curved in a little smile, touched up with lip gloss for this day. Her eyelashes were thick and dark and rested against her cheeks, a stark contrast to her flawless skin, milky white like cream, pure and unspoiled. Only the finest and most expensive clothes dressed her lovely body. She was beautiful and she was loved and she dreamed as the lid of her coffin closed over her. Her day had come, and she was no longer held down by grief and sadness and numbness. And so she smiled.

The End


	8. Timmy

_**Burning Black Interlude**_

Timmy

What I've Done – Linkin Park

* * *

"Never thought I'd see the day where we would meet again." Timmy murmured to the figure standing opposite him on the far side of the room. The other boy just smiled, shrugging casually as his hands remained stuffed in his jacket pockets. "Shouldn't you have disappeared when I died?" the brunet questioned icily.

"Nah. Wasn't cool." the raven-haired boy returned with a smirk, "But everything you got, I got too. Very cool." He pulled a hand from a pocket and lifted it, palm down and fingers spread, to point at Timmy Turner. A burst of fire engulfed it and spun in a spiral over the flesh; mana manipulation. Magic.

Timmy twitched slightly, clicking his tongue in an annoyed 'Tch!' as he tilted his head.

"So you learned a few things. That still doesn't put us on even ground. My experiences don't carry over like that." he growled and the other boy chuckled.

"Dun'int have to." he purred, "I can get my own training in. Anyway, it's gonna be cool, right? Pitting my magic against yours in a fight to the death?" He paused, then laughed again, harder. "Oh, that's rich! To the death! I forgot; we **can't** die!" he exclaimed, gesturing with the ignited hand in a wide sweep. "Sweet! We can fight and destroy everything and anything we want and not have to worry about lame old Death!"

That touched a nerve, a lot of nerves. Timmy bared his teeth furiously, shifting into a light stance that made the best use of his speed. Wanton destruction, just for a stupid playground fight? Not on **his** unfairly-extended life!

He was going to say a final farewell to another piece of his past, one that had sought to ruin him in every way possible. And he would do it without any innocent blood being shed. He swore this as the Hero of Dimmsdale.

The Fenton Phone in his ear chose that moment to carry a voice to him.

_"Don't do anything stupid, Timmy. We need you to come home to us. Let us help you deal with that brat!"_ Tootie argued hotly. Timmy smiled grimly, knowing still that she couldn't see it.

"No can do. This is something I gotta do myself. He's got all my powers, all my moves, and none of my vows as a Hero. You'd be dead in an instant." he returned softly, watching the other boy slip his other hand out and lift it as well, engulfing it with fire to match his first hand.

_"What?! But how-?! Timmy, who **is** this freak of nature?!"_ Tootie blurted out in horror and Timmy chuckled, an echo of the other boy's laughter.

"A freak of nature. That's one way of putting it." he murmured, "You have no idea how much I regretted making this wish when I was ten." His gaze grew sharp at the wide smile growing on the other boy's face. "But I'm going to end this. One way or another, that guy's going down. Even if I have to...." He trailed off, then chuckled again. "Remember when I learned the truth of myself after sifting through all those lies I've been told?" he asked instead, "Looks like I'll be testing the answer tonight."

_"Timmy?! What are you talking about?! Don't you dare-!"_ The Goth's voice was cut off as Timmy pulled the Phone from his ear and dropped it to the floor, crushing it under his shoe defiantly, smiling back at the other teen.

"Aww, you hung up on your sweet li'l Tootie-Pop?" the boy sneered, "S'cool, Tim-Tim. I get done with you, bam! She's **my** Tootie-Pop." Blue eyes gazed over the rims of his sunglasses as they sparkled with cruel mischief. "Gonna show her a nice time tonight, yeah, yeah. Then I'm making this world **my** world!"

"Shut it, Gary." Timmy shot back, shifting his weight on his feet again and pulling the bo from its strap across his back. No matter what, he was going to erase this mistake from the world. Never mind that the boy was essentially himself, that he would be facing his own mirror image, with all the power he possessed.

They rushed at one another suddenly, with no warning, feral yells escaping them as flares of red and orange and yellow swept over them, fire engulfing and surrounding them as they sought to pummel one another with magic. Timmy held his own with evasion and dodged incoming blasts of flame and ice and whatever elements Gary conjured up, the wooden staff helping him deflect the mana, channel it back into himself and add extra fuel to his own castings.

Gary went for raw power, and his defenses were just as strong, bulldozing through sweeps of flame and wind, surprising Timmy on occasion with a punch or kick aimed at the brunet's weak points. The young immortal shifted in mid-air at times to avoid those blows, sometimes taking one purposely as he moved to minimize the damage and force Gary into leaving himself open for retaliation.

Timmy huffed as he flipped back from one attack, taking cover behind his _Boltzman's Shield_ while he fought to regain his breath and think over the situation.

Everyone was waiting for his return, ever since he learned who it was that had been laying siege on Dimmsdale for the past few months. The city had been bombarded with magical attacks, damages piling up, the death toll rising, and witnesses babbling on about a kid in a red jacket, smiling, always smiling. Only smiling.

"Laughing maniacally; not cool." Gary purred, arms held towards the brunet to guide a massive backdraft of blue flame right at him. Timmy's eyes widened at the sight. Leaping back and into the air, he brought the shield with him, condensing and wrapping it around himself. Further enforced with Ice mana, the bubble of mana kept him in one piece as he was swallowed by the flames, even as he finally dropped out of the air and hit the ground.

He had to clean this slate, get rid of this one mark that had refused to leave him in peace even after death. How had Gary survived when all of Timmy's other wishes dissipated upon his passing into Death's embrace?

The shield finally gave after the flames departed and Timmy staggered to his feet, just in time to lift his head and watch Gary rush in and land a solid punch that sent him crashing backwards into the burning debris that had once been the wall behind him. The backdraft was strong enough, fueled by magic, to demolish that part of the building. The duel had just been moved outside. Sunlight shone far too bright to be real, and Timmy rolled backwards in time to avoid being crushed by a ton of rock that materialized in thin air over him.

"Aw, Tim-Tim, you moved!" Gary scolded mockingly, "Delaying the inevitable; not cool! Tootie-Pop don't need a lame punk for a boy-toy!"

Timmy mentally wished he could be deaf, if only to block out Gary's vocabulary. However, the Powers That Be weren't going to grant him mercy unless it was to actually erase this blemish on the world. He stood back from the other boy, taking in his now torn jacket and jeans, the sunglasses and wavy black hair as immaculate as before.

It was odd, and frightening, to be facing **himself** of all people. To face what was once an imaginary best friend turned ultimate enemy, a teen with limitless life and magic coursing through his veins, just like Timmy. He shuddered, flinching at the thought, and just that split second of his guard dropping was enough to let Gary hurl another barrage of fireballs. The brunet yelped, using the bo to bat several away as he jumped backwards, feet barely touching ground as he strove to gain distance, time to think, to figure out how to get rid of Gary once and for all.

He had no clue, really. How did one kill an immortal so steeped in magic?

"You can't, Tim-Tim." Gary purred suddenly from behind the brunet. Timmy stiffened in shock, eyes wide with alarm as his hands tightened their grip on his bo, then with pain as he felt the sharp bite of a blade plunging into his back, driving through to his heart. He felt the tiny spasms within him, a heart still trying to beat after being so rudely interrupted by the foreign metal. Then it fell still, its electric current channeling, bleeding, out through the blade, the tiny _Lightning_ spell that had started and kept his heart beating dispelled by that single act.

He gasped, wincing in pain as Gary rested his chin on his shoulder, chuckling darkly.

"You can't kill an immortal magic-user, Tim-Tim. And yeah, I can read your mind. Mental link to the guy who created me; way cool." the dark-haired teen went on, smirking, "You are you and I am me and we are each other, tied and tangled in a mess that's all effed up like this miserable world." The blade twisted, only slightly, and a whimper of pain escaped the brunet before he could hold it in. "So if you wanna cross me out, you're gonna have to cross yourself out first, Tim-Tim. I exist as long as you do; that's why I survived. And I know, boy-o, you ain't got the **guts** to erase us."

Timmy shut his eyes, mind racing over the information he'd gathered from the battle so far. The two of them tangled together and linked like that; to erase Gary, he himself had to cease to exist as well. But how did one kill an immortal? How? How? Jumbles of memories swirled in his thoughts, laced with pain as the blade twisted again.

And he gasped again, one of those memories sharpening in focus. He knew, then. He knew how to end himself; Timmy had nearly done so by mistake at one point, and other things nearly did it for him, before he was able to destroy them all.

"What the hell?" Gary murmured in confusion before it finally dawned on him what he was seeing in Timmy's mind, "Oh, NOT COOL!" The blade was yanked out and Timmy felt himself be spun around to face the enraged 'imaginary' enemy, spurts of blue fire dancing around him as the teen gripped his shoulders tightly. "You are **not** taking me out of the game! Not when things are going cool for me in my plans!" Gary snapped furiously.

"I'm starting this over." Timmy hissed back, "**All** of it. I'm going to make sure you're gone from this world, once and for all!" With that, he thrust his hands out, breaking free of Gary's grip, then lashing the bo downwards as he leaped back, a massive _Flagrare Lancea_ crashing down on the raven-haired boy to keep him occupied. He turned and ran, tossing aside the wooden pole while Gary raged among the flames, hurling mana outward in a berserk fury that tore into the facades of several nearby buildings.

Timmy didn't care, not at that moment. He had an idea, and he knew Gary was aware of it, but as powerful as Gary was, he still lacked a good deal of imagination, and that creativity was Timmy's greatest weapon. Anything was possible for him to do, as long as he could imagine it and believed nothing was beyond his ability.

"Today, it ends. No more suffering for these people. No more pain and misery because the Heart of Dimmsdale's gone." Timmy chanted as he ran down the street, ignoring the blasts of fire shooting haphazardly in his direction and slamming into everything around him. Trees, cars, buildings, people and animals raced around in screams, some lying on the ground in flames, scorched beyond recognition. He kept his gaze forward and turned into the Dimmsdale Park, even as he yearned to stop and help those people, the people of **his** city. What kind of Hero ignored those in need? What of his friends, waiting and praying for him to come out the winner in this? What of the city, battered and ruined and crying out that their Hero failed to protect them, was doing nothing to stop the insanity?

This was his fault. This was all what he had done, directly and indirectly. Timmy skidded to a stop in front of one of the dedication statues in the park, the bronze replica of his ten-year-old self grinning at the hailstorm of fire and rock that pelted Dimmsdale in the wake of Gary's search for him. He gazed out at the city skyline, the pain in his back dulling and fading as he murmured the spell for _Cure_ to heal it. Dimmsdale really was a nice town, a wonderful city that didn't deserve all the crud he brought to it.

He smiled, a serene little smile that graced his features as he closed his eyes, tilting his chin up to feel the sun on his face.

"I forgive the things I've done. I didn't know better. Now I have the understanding of all that I did, every last little crime." Timmy murmured, "And I'm going to wash it all away to grant this city mercy, this whole world. I'll face myself, and cross him out of existence."

Storming up to meet him, Gary set a new personal record for explosions and 'things catching on fire'. He'd torn through all of Timmy's thoughts, saw what he was aiming at, and the sheer stupidity of it -not to mention the impossibility- was making him more furious than when he'd first glimpsed the idea.

"Ohhhh, Tim-Tim. You are **so** gonna pay for this." he seethed, gathering mana into a massive fireball, swirls of blue-white flame ready to engulf their target, "I'm gonna make it cool to have you scream like a little girl in just **two** seconds! _You hear me?!_"

"No. I'm washing away what I've done." Timmy replied with a smirk, lifting his hands as though to present something to the other boy, "Catch ya later, Imaginary Gary." The smirk widened, baring front teeth that were as trademark a feature for him as his silly pink hat had once been. "Oh, wait, I won't." he corrected with a chuckle, and a flare of white light suddenly exploded from before the boy, engulfing him, the statue, the screaming dark-haired boy still holding his fireball, the park....

--

Tootie and the rest of the Others came to a halt just a few blocks from the park, still shaken by all the carnage that had torn through Dimmsdale only minutes ago. Now they stared with wide, alarmed eyes at the blinding waves of light washing out from the park towards them.

"What **is** that?!" Chester yelled in shock, "Is that one of Timmy's spells?!"

"Quick! Turn on your mana shields!" A.J. cried as he slapped a button on a device attached to his belt. Everyone followed his example, multiple little bubbles of mana forming over each of them as protection. Tootie watched the wave with fear and worry, eyes tearing up as she brought a hand to her mouth.

"Timmy, what have you done?" she whispered and closed her eyes, falling back as the wave rushed over and engulfed the group of teens.

--

The white didn't stop with Dimmsdale; it swallowed the world itself, engulfing the planet in brilliant light and stretching out beyond it, wrapping around the hidden moon of Derris-Kharlan, Fairy World and its Anti half, Pixies Inc., and finally beamed out to touch on the distant planet of Yugopotamia, enveloping the bizarre world in shimmering white light. All this happened in the span of a few seconds, and lasted just as long. In a heartbeat, in less than that really, the light vanished.

* * *

On Earth, a small child bounced a Magic 9-Ball against the bedroom wall, muttering irritably about the existence of a Director's Cut edition of Titanic playing at the Dimmsdale movie theater. It really wasn't fair, for his parents to be gone until the next morning just to watch a dumb movie and leave the world's nastiest babysitter behind to torture him.

The ball cracked open on impact, and a spiral of pink mist rose from it, exploding to reveal a tiny couple with gossamer wings and golden crowns, clutching little star-topped wands in their hands. They smiled brightly and rushed towards the startled kid eagerly.

"I'm Cosmo!" the green-haired male declared.

"I'm Wanda!" the pink-haired female chipped in. They flew back together, a platform and bright Broadway-style lights flashing behind them as they declared in unison, "And weeee're youuuurrrr... _fairy godparents_!" The lights spelled out 'Fairy Godparents', just in case the shock had rendered the poor kid deaf.

It did, but it was shaken off in favor of something else.

"Yeah. Hi. I'm Mikey, and I'm callin' the cops." the boy griped, jumping from his bed to do just that.

"Oh, you can't do that! If you reveal who we are, we'll just go away forever." Wanda told him, waving her wand to poof in a tollbooth and bar to block the boy's way to the door, "It's in Da Rules. Anyway, we're here to help you! We're on your side!"

"Yeah! We grant wishes!" Cosmo agreed, waving his arms. A sparkle of interest lit Mikey's eyes and he turned fully to look up at the fairies.

"Wishes? Like, what kind? How many?" he asked and the fairy couple giggled together.

"Anything you want, Mikey, as long as Da Rules don't interfere. And you can have as many wishes as you like!" Wanda told him brightly, "We're **your** fairy godparents, after all!"

The door suddenly flew open, the fairies disguising themselves as little goldfish in a bowl on Mikey's bedside table, the boy himself on the bed, all done in the moment before Vicky could be revealed in the doorway.

"What's all that noise?!" she demanded, then spotted the fish, "What are those?!"

"They're my god-fish." Mikey stammered out, then corrected himself quickly, "Goldfish!" The carrot-top narrowed her eyes at the boy, then the fish.

"Maybe I should **flush** 'em!" she threatened and the boy blurted out in protest. Her head tilted to one side and her frown deepened. "Damn, missed the end of the show. Well, I'm gonna relax and when I get back, those things had **better** be gone." she growled and her eyes flashed cruelly, "Otherwise it's toilet time for the two of them!" With that, she slammed the door closed, heading for the bathroom to take a hot soak.

Cosmo and Wanda reappeared by Mikey, the boy sitting there with a considering look on his face.

"You guys said you grant any wish I want, right?" he asked carefully.

"Within reason. Fairies can't use magic to bring serious harm or death to a human...." Wanda began.

"But we can make 'em rack up a _huuuuuge_ therapy bill!" Cosmo finished with a smile. Mikey grinned mischievously.

"Then I wish for one thing." he murmured, "Gelatin."

And with that, a familiar story began its journey down a familiar path, but set to take different steps, make different wishes, with no memory of how this came to be, or why, and all because of the last spell cast by the nonexistent Timmy Turner.

_"Erase myself, and forget what I've done! Ultimatus Revertere!"_

The End


	9. Caleb

A/N: Working on Elmer's and A.J.'s interludes still. Here's the first of the voted for Interludes, Caleb! Must warn you, there are some slight spoilers for one of the other fics, but unless you really understand what it is you're reading, you'll prolly overlook it and be spared the spoiler. :3 I hope.

A/N 2: The Raven being referred to here isn't the one from Teen Titans, but it is Caleb's pet-name for Danny Fenton/Phantom. Caleb has the tendency to bestow animal names upon people he really bonds with as a sign of affection and friendship. However, he rarely calls Danny by this name to his face unless he feels it is all right.

A/N 3: Cookie to whoever can identify Caleb's 'sons' in this Interlude.

Canon to Burning Black

* * *

_**Burning Black Interlude**_

Caleb

Karma Slave – Splashdown

* * *

This wasn't something he wanted to see so early in the morning.

Absently, Caleb noted the time -_3:27:44 am_- as he gazed at the two fairies sobbing over their words, babbling incoherently through their tears as they huddled together, then lifted his eyes to see the body of a small boy, a boy he'd met only a few months ago.

_Timothy Tiberius Turner, age: 10, Class: Hero Apprentice, Level: 4, Hometown: Dimmsdale, California. Last known status: Active._

They cried that he'd fallen, they'd been too late to arrive and do anything; they stole him away when the fairies exploded onto the scene _en masse_, there for a retrieval and immediate quarantine. They had nowhere else to go, no one to turn to, so they came here, to New York, to the Archives of the Twin Blades. They came to Caleb for his special magic, the arts he learned in the Lost Age of Union, when the world was Symphonia and if one could intervene at the right time, a fallen warrior could be restored to life.

Caleb's eyes remained on the limp body of the boy in the pink hat, his little figure wrapped in a bubble of magic that preserved him, kept him from decomposing, and held him suspended in the air behind the weeping fairy godparents.

_Current status: Deceased._

"Let me see what I can do." he finally said curtly, interrupting the flow of words and tears, "Drop that shield and let me examine him; we can't afford to waste time if I'm going to do anything for him."

It seemed like this was going to be something that he was forever bound to do, serving Heroes and tending to them, raising them up when it seemed like they fell. It was a self-appointed task, but also one enforced as punishment. Each day was the same, cycling over and over like some deity-forsaken wheel of torment. Caleb's existence, once free and bright and full of possibilities now reduced to this; enslaved to this task without end.

He'd made one error in his life, just one, countless millennia ago, and in a life that should have been forgotten he'd made another. The mistakes he made that now dictated he would be bound to preserve what he once ruined... it seemed as though he was to be forced to do it again.

He would be coming back to that damned wheel for another punishment for this. Caleb's mouth quirked into a strained grin that soon turned into a sardonic smile as the fairies deposited their charge carefully, lovingly, on an examination table. All right, he'd bite his tongue and go again, but this would be the last time, damn it all, because he couldn't bear to see another life lost due to his failure as a living being.

But if he did this right... played it cautiously and carefully, setting up the pieces to create a failsafe... maybe he could get away with it. This time. This time. He'd come back to the wheel and it would be for the final time, because he'd win and he'd laugh and be free again. Because he had his trump card, one that his punishment had given him to enforce his slavery. Perfect neutrality; the power to be unswayed by the temptations offered to him by either Good or Evil and bound only to the Wheel, to the cycle of serving in the name of the Earth, protecting its life and knowledge and existence.

As long as he stood in the middle, between the two forces, he was untouchable. He played one against the other like a master, siphoning what he wanted, what he needed, and if anyone fell, he was safe from it. He stood in the middle, kept his balance perfect, and let the cogs spin out of control around him. There was something to be said for being a slave of karma; he always knew exactly when his Wheel was going to turn badly, and was well-prepared to withdraw to the middle, standing in neutrality and solid as stone.

This was his chance to nudge one side over the other, and _escape_ with it. With the knowledge that he had risen above his perfect neutrality, that there was a way for him to escape it, and eventually shear it away to join who he wanted to join.

* * *

_Broken neck, healed. Fluids and wastes vacated, disposed. Body cleaned and prepped for mana autopsy._

Caleb examined the boy from head to toes, cold and clinical, detached from his emotions -_he's so cold_- for the time being. Once again he stood in the middle, in his zone of neutrality. Just as easily as he could restore life and have the boy bounce out the door as happy as could be, he could turn against them and leave the boy for dead, citing the adage that death comes to all and it would be sinful to distort Nature just to bring him back.

He took a deep breath, aware of the hopeful eyes watching him from nearby, then lifted the Wonder Fork to start his spell. He stepped out of the middle... and leaned towards life.

_"Bring back this soul from purgatory!"_ Caleb declared forcefully, putting all his power and will into this casting. _"Resurrection!"_

Nothing happened.

Cosmo and Wanda were staring at the boy in disbelief, then at him. Why didn't it work? Caleb could almost hear that question being asked of him. He tried again.

_"Heaven, return this soul from thine embrace!"_ he tried another spell, _"Raise the Dead!"_

Still nothing.

The Wheel began to tip backwards, and Caleb found himself thrown back into perfect neutrality, struggling as his wrists were chained up, forced to watch his third failure take place; he lowered the Wonder Fork, gazing stonily at the still lifeless boy before him and tuning out the renewed sobbing that came from the fairies.

"How long has he been dead?" he finally asked. They told him it took them a couple of days to get to New York, flying under the fairy radar, so to speak; why?

_Time of effectiveness for all revival spells: within 15 minutes of death, as determined by the ceasing of heartbeat and breathing for 5 minutes._

"I can't resurrect him." Caleb replied softly, "He's been touched by Death; his soul is no longer within my reach." And he felt the Wheel spin, almost victoriously, around him.

* * *

Caleb retreated to his office soon after the failed spell attempts. He was certain that the fairies would preserve the body again -_Decomposition rate: .5% for the time allocated for autopsy_- and would remain within the walls of the Archives. It was a safe haven in their minds, a place where they could stay unmolested and be with their fallen godchild. They were unable to let go of him after death; Caleb knew exactly how they felt.

He had thought he could go on without Wren when the Wonder Chef died, thought his vow to live until death reunited them was enough to sustain him when his memories grew too painful to recall. He thought he was strong enough to stay on the side the Wonder Chef chose, to follow his path and continue his journey of peace, preservation, and guidance. But he wasn't. Caleb couldn't let go, but he couldn't bear to break his vow to Wren to protect and love all life, and it took many, many years, centuries even, before the strain finally broke him and he grew desperate to recover what he lost.

And that was when he made his second mistake, his first for this life. He attempted to distort Nature to bring his dearest friend back to life, and it failed, failed horribly. His companion -_his daughter_- paid the price in exchange for his continued life, and he was punished with perfect neutrality, forever severed from his promise to join Wren in death.

"Martel, I need your advice." he finally whispered, sitting on the edge of his desk, shoulders slumping tiredly. Light, soft green and vibrant, shimmered into view nearby, and he felt slender arms wrap around his shoulders in a hug, heard the soft clinks of metal on metal from the rings on the head of her staff tapping against each other. He kept his head bowed, weary of the burdens he carried and sick of the karmic wheel that continued spinning around him, putting him in his perfectly neutral balance as it tore at his heart and soul a little more.

"I'm here, Caleb. Tell me what woes you, Little Brother." the Spirit of Mana murmured gently. Caleb chuckled, a dry and hollow sound.

"Besides the usual? One of my Hero Apprentices died recently, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it or revive him. I had no idea an accident had happened, and his fairies took too long to get him to me." he returned quietly, "I tried to revive him, but I couldn't. I know I should leave it at that... but..."

He felt Martel pull herself away just long enough to take a seat beside him on the desk, setting the winged staff beside her, one hand coming down to rest delicately over one of his. He gazed at it, taking in the flawless skin, pale as the moon, and the graceful fingers that belonged to his older sister, sister twice over because of circumstance and her actions combined. He didn't even think about it when his other hand came down to rest on hers, drawing comfort from the contact. It was an odd contrast; they were siblings, yet the Goddess Martel's hand was flesh and bone and blood -_divine but still there, so it counted_-, while his own was metal and synthetics and circuits and conduits. She was a creature of flesh, fashioned by the joining of the Guardian Spirit of Mana, the thousands of souls that resided with her and Martel Yggdrasill in the Great Seed, and the android that first served Altessa, Tabatha; her power had been great enough that metal became flesh and bone.

Caleb did not have that luxury, a soul bound to a body of metal and magic by her power. He was no great Guardian Spirit, but an angel twice fallen, deemed unworthy of such power. What was one tainted soul against the thousands of innocents within her? He couldn't be bitter towards her for her life, she was his dear sister, his only family left in existence; he couldn't be bitter, but he could be somewhat resentful that he was still one of a kind, doomed to be alone.

Didn't help that she had also been the one who placed the punishment of perfect neutrality on his head, that disappointed expression on her face as she spoke the enchantment had wounded him almost as badly as knowing he'd lost his chance to be with Wren. He didn't speak to her for a century after that, only reconciling with her when Dhaos appeared in an attempt to steal her away to save his own world. He'd acted as a conduit then, helping his sister transform the man into a Great Seed Vessel and sending him back to save that other world, a world whose name was so very much like Derris-Kharlan that it made Caleb shiver.

"You can't bring yourself to leave him for dead." Martel finished for him, as though well aware of his thoughts before they wandered down the path they did. Caleb nodded slowly. She sighed, more a slow exhalation than anything else, a thoughtful sound rather than exasperated. "When Ratatosk began awakening and the Heroes of Union, called Heroes of Regeneration, took to referring to Yggdrasill by another name to protect me, I took steps myself." she murmured, "By sealing the path to the Tree, no souls are able to become part of its collective, so following a dying soul to the Tree becomes impossible. However, in doing this, its regeneration of mana became much slower than before. You know this. I continue placing mana in this world for you, despite Ratatosk's commandment to isolate the world from needing it."

She reached out with a free hand, lifting Caleb's chin so as to smile gently at him, eye to eye. "That is why I am grateful to you, Little Brother, for maintaining the level of mana surrounding this world and allowing me plenty of time to restore myself before cycling the flow again." The smile slowly turned into a small frown, her eyes shining with emotion, "But at the same time, I can**not** allow you to violate Nature just to restore one life. You attempted it once, knowing that I took Adam's soul into the collective long after Ratatosk's journey, in honor of the deeds he had performed for me, for Lloyd, for Symphonia. It pained me, but I **had** to punish you for it. You lost someone dear to both of us because of what you had done, and in repeating an attempt that caused much pain and heartache in Lloyd's time you led me to believe that you were regressing. Perfect neutrality is the chain and lock against loosing the power of the soul within you."

"Timmy Turner did not deserve to die as he did, and I **don't** have that kind of bond with him. You punished me enough already, restrengthening the enchantment when I met Raven. I don't care to try turning anyone else into an angel." Caleb protested weakly, "But... I just... he **has** to live..."

Martel stared at him, a stern and unreadable expression on her face as she kept the contact between them direct, her fingers still trapping his chin in place so he couldn't turn away from her.

"Tell me the truth, Caleb." she finally whispered, low and firm, "Tell me now of your intentions. Why is this boy so important to you if he has no bond to you, has nothing of Adam's legacy in his veins?" Caleb's eyes widened slightly as she radiated with light, looking far more intimidating than any woman as willowy and graceful as she could possibly look. "What makes him _worthy_ of being brought back from Death's embrace when our magic, yours **and** mine, is incapable of breaching The Veil through which he has passed?"

"His service as a Hero is incomplete; darkness is stirring and he must be there to quell it." Caleb returned automatically, unthinking as he continued staring, wide-eyed, at his sister. It had just come out of him, a hunch that solidified as fact even as he spoke the words. "The world needs him; he stands with Lloyd, with Wren, with Raven, on the path of the Gentle Idealist."

"You are a slave to karma, the source of power for your perfect neutrality. To gain, you must lose. When you lose, you must gain. You choose what to lose and what to gain, moving in accordance. In this, you are master of the Wheel that was bound to you." the Goddess murmured, "Each decision, each action, each movement you make, is but another Wheel within your Wheel, all turning together to support your strength and weakness in balance until the day you can shed your shackles. The day your evolution as a living android is enough to earn your true reward. Are you willing to sacrifice life for life? You still have lives dear to you that can be offered."

Caleb closed his eyes, his emotions churning and making him feel sick. To get Timmy back, he'd have to give up someone else. He himself could not be offered in exchange; it would free him from his punishment. However, people he cared for -_loved_- were unprotected from this type of threat; their lives could be taken to pay for his crimes. He could only hope they would forgive him, but this dread feeling he had upon seeing the boy lying dead on his table could only mean that something far more horrible lay in wait for everyone. One life for one life, in hopes that it was one life for many. Caleb hated himself for it -_Lloyd would be ashamed of him_- but he sucked in his breath and answered before his bravado left him.

"Yes. Take any life you need."

Martel nodded sharply and released him, getting to her feet and recollecting her staff. She took a few steps from him, back facing the angelic android, and stood for several seconds in silence. She turned at last to face him, a smile once again gracing her lips, that same smile that told Caleb she had already foreseen everything, good and bad, and even had plans in place to make sure her younger brother wouldn't suffer his penalty too badly.

"Then it is done. You wish to have Timmy Turner brought back from the dead in a fashion that our magic could not accomplish; call your recently christened beloved, that child who can pass through The Veil when we cannot." she told him, pointing the head of her staff at Caleb, "He will take three days to contemplate the task you will place on him, but stand strong and he will choose to retrieve the boy's soul and revive him." She frowned sternly again. "And this is the crime you will commit; you will sin against Nature by restoring to life a soul that was touched by Death, violating the order **all** things must abide by. As punishment, I will take the life of a child you 'sired', one of your sons."

"My... what?" Caleb whispered in confusion, eyes wide and baffled, "I don't have children... I can't have... I'm an android... a machine..." Martel narrowed her eyes at him, face tilting almost menacingly.

"You attempted to steal Adam's soul long before you came to meet your dear Raven, by channeling him into the body of a child before birth, at the moment a soul is forged within the womb, thereby giving him a natural body with a mana signature that would conform to match his own." she told him icily, "You attempted such a thing twice, and failed both times due to your mispronunciation of a single word in that spell. You fathered two sons in this manner, thus why they appear so similar to one another despite their differing backgrounds. I will take one of them, tonight, by poison."

Caleb's hands tightened on the edge of his desk, cracking the wood under his fingertips.

"I... I understand." he managed to choke out. He knew, now, who the 'sons' were that she spoke of, and hated himself even more.

This was what it meant to be a slave of karma. He was untouchable, but those around him were swept away by the spinning of his Wheel.

"Caleb." Martel whispered and he looked at her again, pain already filling his eyes at knowing what he'd done, "You are still my dear younger brother, and I still love you, despite all you've done in your first life and in this one. Do you believe that I would be so cruel to you?"

He shook his head, slowly, uncertain at first, then with a resigned surety.

"Then believe in me and my actions. You wish to take back the life of a grade school student." she told the android and bent to look him in the eyes again, focused and sharp, "In exchange, you will **give** back the life of a grade school student. Your son will not die of poison, but he will lose the life he has now, taking on the life of a new child."

And she vanished from his presence once she saw the light of hope return to Caleb's eyes.

* * *

It was only a few minutes after Martel had gone. Caleb sat at his desk, phone at his ear as he smiled at the empty room, a predatory smirk of one who had everything under control. The smile of a chess master. It didn't take him long to figure out who Martel meant by 'a child that could pass beyond The Veil'. Danny Phantom, alias Danny Fenton, had the power to cross that sacred boundary. It had never occurred to him to ask a child of Life and Death to distort both at the same time to save Timmy. Ah, well; that's what Martel's insight was for, right?

At Caleb's hands was a keypad, where he typed out rapid instructions for his own android servants to carry out, preparations to be made, rooms to be done up, stories to be had, documents and paperwork to be filled out and filed, false identifications and Social Security numbers to be created. He had to hurry and put all the pieces into place for this. The sooner Timmy's new life could be created, the better he would feel about everything, including setting the stage for Timmy's return to Dimmsdale to face down that foreboding darkness lingering on the horizon.

"Hello, Danny Fenton? ...Ah, Danny. Firstly, I'm sorry to hear about what happened to your cousin; very tragic."

...

"The Hounder Organization will cover the cost of the funeral. ...Yes, I know it won't be until the end of the week, but that's fine."

...?

"Why? Well, I'm handling that. In the meantime, I have a proposition to make. ...Don't yell; this is the perfect time for it."

...?

"I have Timmy Turner's body here in New York."

...

...!

"...Ah, that got your attention, didn't it?"

...

...?

"Oh, my proposition? How would you like to bring him back from the dead?"

...

...

"Come to New York. You have three days to think it over."

The End


End file.
